Murderer For Hire
by Nikki Kirk
Summary: When a hired killer case comes up, the Detectives don’t count on one, let alone two of their own being targets…


Date completed: 4.6.2000  
  
Summary: When a hired killer case comes up, the Detectives don't count on one, let alone two of their own being targets...  
  
Author's Notes: Well, this took a while. My hands are pretty sore now. I'm meant to be doing a Media Studies assessment which is due in on Tuesday. Oh joy. This is long, and features some very long paragraphs, but both long ones consist of mostly one word conversations between Rachel and Frank. Tell me what you think!!! Oh, and did any of you notice similarities between Pinchgut and a story I wrote a while back called "An Ape In The Sydney Opera House", which was, among other things, about a journalist at the station??? Just wondering... Maybe I should sue Hal? Nah, just kidding, I'll take it as a compliment, unless it was just a *coincedence*!!! Wouldn't that be cool though, knowing they read our stories...? We could all be famous!!! :)!!!  
  
Dedications: To EVERYBODY who reads this, to all my mates, and to everyone that provides feedback, you know who you are, thank you guys!!! Oh, and to all of the people who've been there for me in the past few weeks, you know who you are. Oh, and to Esme who thinks my accent is hilarious... oh, and if Fish was meant to be said "feesh" it would be spelt F-E-E-S-H, not F-I-S-H. Same goes for Chips, if you get what I mean. Teeheehee! Feesh and Cheeps... yeah, right. :p!  
  
Disclaimer: Yeah, right, whatever, so sue me. Just kidding! I take NO responsibility, yes, you heard right, and call now and you'll receive a lawsuit free! I don't know them, I don't own them, I'm just borrowing them, but I own the characters I made up, so there. :p! So, in short, bugger off, you can't sue me coz I take no responsibility, I'm not affiliated, I'm not trying to rip anyone off, I'm trying to create a bit of reading for my fellow Water Rats buffs.   
  
P.S. This contains a bit of bad language. Enjoy!  
  
*****  
Murderer For Hire  
By Nikki Kirk  
*****  
  
"Reilly, you're going in as the undercover officer seeing as Rachel and Frank have both come across this bloke before. Blakemore, Holloway, Goldstein, you three will be on surveillance, you will hear everything going on. You will keep in contact with base at all times, which means keeping your cellphones on. Oh, and Reilly, you will be fitted with a wire. Woods, McCall, Sykes and Tavita, you will pair up and take an undercover boat each out into the harbour within a kilometre radius of the residence, the address of which is 42 Gallimore Ave, Balmain East. The suspects are," Jeff rattled off the details of the day's work to half of his staff in the morning briefing on a Wednesday, "Danny Pearson, 190 centimetres tall, broad shoulders, well-built. He was a rugby forward in his club in Parramatta until pulling a ligament in his knee ten months ago. Secondly, there's Samuel "Stinger" Anderson, known as "Bob" to his closest mates. He's exceptionally tall at 205 centimetres, he's also very stocky and strong. He's a body builder, and is not someone who you want to cross. Is that clear? And thirdly there's the mastermind of all of this, Anderson's wife, Margarita "Mags" Wilson. She uses her own name. She would probably have been the most dangerous member of the ring, except she's now around seven months pregnant with twins. She's a small woman, about 150 in height. She has long black hair now, this photo of her is getting old," Jeff slapped the photos up on the briefing room white board, "She also has a nose stud and a tattoo on her right ankle of a blood covered knife. She has a record as long as your arm for assault, assaulting a police officer, and was suspected of several murders over the past two years, but Central, the station previously handling the cases until they took to the water on their million dollar yacht, Sharp As A Knife, never had enough evidence to catch her. Now, it's our task to get some evidence. Now, these people are dangerous, and easy enough to get mad, so watch your backs at all times. This case is called "Murderer For Hire", got it? Good."   
  
*****  
  
"Yeah, gidday, I'm Peter Smith, I'm here to talk to you about a business proposal." Michael Reilly found himself facing Mags Wilson, a short, vicious looking woman with piercing black eyes.   
"What, you mean the Waterfront proposal?" Mags said the password slowly, sizing Reilly, or "Smith", as she knew him, up.   
"Yeah."  
"Come in..." Mags ushered Reilly in, looked around outside, then followed him down the hallway.  
Rachel, Frank and Helen listened to their conversation carefully, sitting in front of some controls in the back of a truck parked outside. "How much are ya willing to invest?" Mags voice came through loud and clear.  
"Depends, how you gonna do away with him?" Reilly's voice sounded confident, but all three of his listeners knew he must be more than slightly nervous, sitting in front of one of the most malicious, evil women in the whole of Australia.  
"Carefully. At my discretion. How much are you gonna invest?" Mags spoke forcefully.  
"Five thou?"  
"Six."  
"Five five."  
"Five nine."  
"Five six."  
"Five seven and a half, final offer."  
"Yep. Anything to get the bastard out of the way."  
"Who is he?"  
"My boss, Rick Harvings. He lives in Balmain East, on Darling Road."   
"What number?"  
"Fifty-eight."  
"You sure?"  
"Yes."  
"Description?"  
"Tall, slim, dark brown hair, brown eyes. Mid forties. Who's gonna kill him off?"  
"None of your bloody business. If you want him killed you play by my rules. You got the down-payment?"  
"Yeah, right here."  
Rachel, Frank and Helen heard rustling as Reilly pulled a wad of $100 bills out of his pocket. "She's gonna do it." Rachel stated to Helen, watching her pick up the radio to give the go ahead to the waiting armed offenders squad who were staking out the place.  
Suddenly it was all go. Men popped out of the bushes where they'd previously been concealed, they're guns now glinting in the sunshine. Squad cars filed down the street in a fast moving fleet, the engines roaring impatiently. Rachel, Frank and Helen watched the tv screens where cameras displayed different angles of the yard and inside the house, including the lounge where Reilly was with Mags. "Here ya go, the three thou' down payment..." Reilly handed her the wad of notes, concealing the satisfaction he was feeling knowing that they had got her.  
Mags counted the money, resting her hands on her enlarged belly. "Nice doing business with ya." Mags shook his hand.  
"When will it be done by?"  
"Next Friday at the latest."  
"Great. Should get the company..." Reilly muttered the password for the troops to be sent in."  
"Go, go, go, go, GO!!!" Helen yelled into the radio, grinning at Rachel and Frank in turn.  
Reilly jumped as the Armed Offenders Squad burst in the front and back doors simultaneously, then watched Mags face turn from obvious greed to sheer panic. She attempted to jump over the sofa to the ranch-sliders, but miscalculated the width of her body and fell onto her side on the floor, her head the wooden floor hard, knocking her unconscious. "Well, that wasn't too hard was it?" Frank looked at the fallen woman and up at Reilly.  
"Nah, piece of cake. Hope the babies are okay." Reilly watched the Paramedics run in.  
  
*****  
  
"So, your husband and his mate, Danny Pearson, they go out and kill the victims, right?" Rachel barked at Mags.  
"No."  
"So you do it?"  
"No."  
"Then who does it then?" Frank piped up.  
"It doesn't happen."  
"You know, Mags, for *some* reason, I don't believe you. And I don't think these two do either..." Rachel motioned towards Reilly who was standing in the back of the room, and Frank who was standing beside her.  
"Yeah, well, I ain't gonna tell you nothing." Mags smirked, and patted her stomach.  
"Well then, we're just going to have to arrest you for conspiring to kill..."  
"You have no evidence!" Mags slammed a fist down on the table.  
"Mrs Anderson, is this your voice?" Rachel motioned for Reilly to play a conversation between Mags and her husband tapped off her phone line several days beforehand.  
"So, how we gonna do it? Push him off a cliff? Suicide?" Mags' voice was broadcasted out of the speakers on the radio.  
"Nah, we'll put an OD in his drink at the pub... the pigs'll think it's suicide." Samuel "Stinger" Anderson's voice rasped on the other end of the phone."  
"Yeah, good idea. When you coming home?"   
"Dunno."  
"You doing away with someone tonight?"  
"Nah, preps. Boy, this one'll be hard!"  
"Who? The cop?"  
"Yeah."  
Reilly stopped the tape. "Well, that enough evidence?" Frank asked smart-assedly.   
Mags glared at the tabletop, a cruel smile showing on her lips. "So, Mags, who's this cop?" Rachel asked.  
"Oh, wouldn't you like to know..." Mags chuckled.  
  
*****  
  
"The search turned up nothing?" Helen asked as Frank and Rachel returned from searching Mags Anderson's place.  
"Nah. Clean as a whistle." Frank remarked.  
"God, I wish we knew who this cop was." Rachel shook her head.  
"Don't we all?" Helen agreed, taking a file from Reilly.  
Rachel and Frank jogged up the stairs and wandered down the corridor to their office.  
"So, we have no evidence of the killers, no evidence on Mags and hubby apart from the phone call and the tipoffs, and Pearson's hair was found at one of the crime scenes, but can't be picked up for it 'coz he was there beforehand. They're tricky, they're *really* tricky." Rachel went over her notes, reading them to Frank.  
"Yeah, I'll say."  
"Coffee?"  
"Would be nice..." Frank sighed.  
"Be right back." Rachel's shoes rhythmically clicked down the hallway, disappearing into the Meal Room.  
Frank sat at his desk reading his own notes, then suddenly had a thought. He picked up the phone and dialled through to Helen. "Helen, where did you say the Anderson's boat was moored?" Frank asked, tapping his pen on the table, "Right. Where did Pearson live?" Frank jotted down some details on his pad of paper, "Great. Has Pearson been on any holidays recently?" Frank jotted those details down too, "And what about the Andersons and drugs, any friends that are dealers?" a smile crept onto Frank's face, "Helen, you're a bloody genius." Frank hung up the phone and grinned at Rachel.  
"What?"  
"You'll see."  
  
*****  
  
"This it?" Rachel asked, pulling into the driveway of a shabby brick house.  
"Yep."  
"Not exactly fancy huh?"  
"Nope, maybe he's not doing well..."  
"Or maybe he's not letting on anything, maybe he spends most of his time elsewhere... like on a million dollar yacht for example..." Rachel pointed out slyly.  
"Maybe." Frank rapped on the shabby old white door, the paint peeling off on his knuckles.  
"Hmm, in good nick I see..." Rachel sniggered, watching him pull the paint off his hand.  
Suddenly the door burst open. "Yes?" Danny Pearson stood before them in a white singlet and faded blue boxer shorts.  
"We're Senior Detectives Rachel Goldstein and Frank Holloway, we have a warrant to inspect your premises, sir." Rachel watched Pearson's eyebrows shoot up.  
Rachel gave him a questioning look. "Oh, nothing, nothing... just thought I recognised you..." Pearson muttered, letting the pair in.  
While searching in the lounge, Frank stumbled across a loose block of stone in the fireplace in the lounge. Behind the stone was a large cavity reaching back to the wall, filled with bags of white powder, tinnies, and dried marijuana leaves. "Rach, look what I've found!" Frank called to Rachel who was searching in the bedroom.   
She quickly jogged to his side to see his discovery. "Shit! There must be ten kilos in there!" Rachel exclaimed, pulling out a bag of the powder, then looking at Pearson who was standing in the doorway asked, "Care to explain this one?"  
"Never seen it before." Pearson tried to cover up his tracks.  
"Really? That's funny, the date on this one says yesterday's date, oh, and this one has today's date, and the ink from the vivid you used is still wet... care to worm your way outa that one?" Frank watched his face intently.  
"Shit." Pearson slumped into a chair in the corner.  
  
*****  
  
"So, what were you planning to do with these?" Frank pushed a small bag of pills towards Pearson.  
"Have them myself."  
"Really? Lucky you didn't, they're made of heroin so concentrated it would kill ya in three minutes." Frank looked him in the eye.  
"Yeah, well..."  
"You were planning on using these on your next victim, weren't you?" Rachel interrogated him further.  
"No, I wasn't."  
"So, who was it gonna be?"   
"A guy called Zack Middleton."  
"Ah, so you were conspiring to kill him?"  
Pearson stayed silent, ignoring Rachel's grey eyes burning into his flesh.  
"I'll take that as a yes. And who was the latest victim going to be?"   
Pearson looked up at Rachel and smiled to himself. "What? This a private joke or something? Between you and Mags? Coz she did the same thing to me earlier, and I would like to know why!" Rachel snapped.  
"It's coz you're next..." Pearson sniggered, grinning at Rachel.  
  
*****  
  
"Shit. Shit!!!" Rachel yelled, slamming the case notes down on her desk, "This was *not* how I planned this case would go..."  
"Rach, they'll put you on a protection programme..." Frank tried to reassure his partner, though he was scared himself.  
"Oh, bloody lot of use that'll be! Tell me, Frank, how many times have we seen people on the protection programme get done in? Eh? Ten times? A hundred times? A lot, they just *don't* work!" Rachel began pacing the office.  
"Look, Rach, they're probably trying to spook you..."  
"I don't think so. Frank, they're professional killers! If David's over... or you... or anyone else, they might do away with them too..."   
"Look, I won't let that happen... I'll stay with you for a few days, until Anderson's caught." Frank tried again to reason with her.  
"There are probably other hitmen, Frank... You know that as well as I do. I don't want you holding my hand, okay? I'll be fine." Rachel said with a fierce indignant tone to her voice.  
"Rach..."  
"Don't Rach me!!!" Rachel snapped, storming out of the office to talk to Jeff, leaving Frank to try to reassure himself that she would be okay.  
"Jeff..." Rachel began as she entered his office.  
"Rachel, sit down. We're putting you on WPP until we find this guy... You'll be taken care of, but we'll have to move you for a while." Jeff began explaining.  
"Huh? Woah, hold phone, witness protection? Jeff, is that really necessary? I mean, I've got David, and work... It might be for a week, a month, a year! Hell, some people never come off it!!!" Rachel protested.  
"I'm afraid it is, Rachel, and you know it. I'm sending Frank with you..."  
"As my minder?!"  
"Not exactly..."  
"Oh, great. Just top it off why don't ya? He'll drive me nuts!"  
"He's not going to be your minder Rachel, he needs to go on it too... Pearson used his phone call to call Anderson. He told him Holloway needs to go too... These people are dangerous, and I'm not going to loose two of the finest Detectives in Sydney to a pack of hired murderers..."  
"Jeff, we've both been in dangerous situations before... and we got out of them alright! Why is this any different?"  
"Rachel, this is the end of the discussion. You and Frank are going on witness protection, and that's final. You two will be taken to your new location tomorrow. In the mean time, Frank will be with you at all times, neither of you will be alone without an armed fellow officer, and that includes in the bathrooms, and Helen will be keeping an eye on you all day. Helen will be in your office. And Tommy will be with Frank. Alright?" Jeff quickly wrapped up the conversation before Rachel had the chance to protest.  
"Yeah, I guess it'll have to be..." Rachel trailed off, giving up the fight knowing she wouldn't win.  
"Good. Close the door behind you." Jeff waved his hand to dismiss her and went back to his work.  
  
*****  
  
"Great, just bloody wonderful. So I'm not allowed to take a pee by myself now?" Frank wasn't happy about the arrangement either, it seemed.  
"Nope." Rachel sighed, rested her head on her hands and looked at Frank.  
"And neither can you?"  
"Nope."  
"Great."  
"Yep."  
"Greetings..." Helen waltzed in with a phone, the phone extension dragging through the door in a white snake.  
"Yeah right..." Rachel moaned, realising Jeff had been deadly serious.  
"Our minder. Goodie." Frank sighed resignedly.  
"Well, don't sound enthusiastic to see me or anything!!!" Helen pretended to be insulted by the lack of enthusiasm displayed by her "two favourite detectives".  
"Don't worry, we won't. So, Helen, is it true I can't go for a pee by myself now, or is Goldie rarking me up?" Frank asked, not sure he wanted to know the answer.  
"Yep. Neither can she." Helen chirped.  
Goldie shot Frank her best "I-told-ya-so!" glare and immersed herself in her work again. Frank screwed up his face and stuck out his tongue at her, then pretended to be busy with his work. "You know, I've always wanted to know what you two do up here all day... I guess I'll find out now, eh?" Helen looked at Frank in particular, then surveyed the room.  
On Rachel's side it was immaculate. A neat row of paintings done by David decorated the wall behind her, a row of little ornaments David had made sat on the windowsill behind her desk, and her desk was sorted into neat rows and columns of papers. Frank's side was another story. The bookcase on his side was a mess, while Rachel's was in perfect order, alphabetically classified, and dust-free. His side looked as though it had been in an earthquake. Books stuck out at strange angles; many looked as though they would fall off in the slightest breath of wind. Many were coated by dust, and several had fingerprints in the dust. Frank's desk was in a worse state than the bookcase. Papers were strewn all over the place, on the floor, spilling out of desk drawers, and a massive pile surrounded a small clear space where a post-it notepad sat. Helen shook her head and began working again.  
  
*****  
  
"Knock off time Rach!" Frank stretched and grinned at Helen.  
"You abandoning me?" Helen asked, watching him closely.  
"Yep. 'Fraid so." Frank grunted, pulling himself to his feet.  
"So which house?" Helen queried.  
"Eh?" Frank looked at her as if she were mad.  
"Which house? Remember, you can't be alone at anytime?" Helen said slowly, making sure he understood.  
"Oh shit. She's not gonna be happy when we remind her!" Frank pointed a pen at Rachel who was absorbed in her work.  
"She's not gonna be happy about what?" Rachel asked without looking up.  
Frank and Helen looked at each other in amusement. "The fact that one of us has to go home with the other." Frank waited for the bomb to explode.  
"Eh? Oh, yeah." Rachel muttered, typing something into her computer.  
"And the fact that I'll have to cope with your cooking..." Frank tried to get a bite.  
"Hmph..."  
A massive cheeky smile erupted onto Helen's face. "And the fact that you'll both have to sleep in the same bed..."  
"WHAT?!!!! Hawker did NOT say ANYTHING about SLEEPING IN THE SAME BED!!!" Rachel snapped out of it and Hiroshima blew up again.  
Helen unplugged her ears and cautiously addressed Rachel. "You two have to be in the same room as each other at all times. You know that Rachel!" Helen explained.  
"Even the... bathroom?" Rachel shuddered at the thought.  
"I'm afraid so..."  
"What? That's ludicrous!" Rachel protested.  
"So I can't have a shower without *her* present?" Frank couldn't quite believe it either, though he wasn't *too* concerned...  
"Nope. And she can't without you." Helen grinned apologetically, then added "Hey, I didn't make up the rules!"   
Rachel groaned and slumped back against her chair and looked at Frank. Frank did much the same.   
Helen watched them trying to find out what they were thinking. "If it's any consolation, it's only for tonight... And you can go to the toilet without the other person in the room. They just have to be outside, and you..."  
"Can't lock the door, yeah, yeah." Rachel finished Helen's sentence for her.  
"Well, this should be fun." Frank said over-enthusiastically.   
"You don't see me jumping for joy either, do you Frank?!" Rachel snapped, fiercely stuffing her cellphone into her purse.  
Frank shrugged, then exchanged smiles with Helen. "Coming?" Rachel began walking out the door.  
"Yeah. Whose car?" Frank asked.  
"Mine." Rachel grunted, not wanting to put up with the mess that was Frank's car.  
"Correction. The cars are going into storage... paid by the state of course... and you two get to drive a mufti car." Helen took both sets of keys and handed the keys to a Commodore to Rachel.  
"Great. Tell whoever drives my car that I'll sue their pants off if they scratch it, dent it, stain the interior, rip the fabric..." Rachel began.  
"Yeah, yeah. It'll be fixed before you even know it happened, if it happens, anyway." Helen reassured her, then pushed them out the door.   
"I..." Rachel began to speak, but Helen was ready for it.  
"Go home Rachel!!!" Helen interrupted, then locked the office door behind them.  
Frank shrugged at Rachel, and she returned a glare. "Coming?" she snapped, walking briskly down the hall and pausing at the top of the stairs.  
"Yeah, right behind ya."  
  
*****  
  
"Beer?" Rachel opened her fridge and pulled out a six pack.  
"Yeah, would be nice. Just the one though." Frank replied from the lounge, busily watching the BBC.  
"Drinking in moderation Francis? I never thought I'd see the day..." Rachel chuckled.  
"Yeah, well, I have to stay sober as long as I'm babysitting you, you poor weak little thing." Frank smirked.  
"Watch it Francis, unless you're prepared to eat your words..." Rachel threatened, throwing a can at him.  
"Oooh, I'm terrif... What was that?" Frank stopped in mid-sentence upon hearing a loud bang from the lower floor of the townhouse.  
"Better check it out I suppose..." Rachel whispered, pulling her glock pistol out of her suit jacket which was sitting on the bench.  
Frank reached for his own gun, pulling it out of his own jacket lying next to the TV. Rachel silently slid across the lounge to the stairs and paused for Frank to catch up. "I'll go first..." Rachel whispered so quietly Frank could hardly hear her with his face less than 15cm away from her mouth.   
Frank nodded, and looked her in the eye. Rachel knew that look. She'd seen it countless times before, but this time it was the strongest. It was a look of concern, of determination, of protection, one she always took comfort in, knowing he was right behind her. With this knowledge she silently slid down the stairs and slid down the narrow passage to the doorway of the laundry. The door was closed, hiding whatever had made the loud noise. Rachel took a deep breath, burst through the door, flicked the light switch, and scanned the small room with her gun held before her. Rachel waved for Frank to come in.  
He slid in behind her, surveying the room. "Nothing." Rachel almost laughed with relief, checking the open hot water cupboard for anyone or anything.  
"Uh, not quite." Frank spoke up.  
Rachel turned to see him holding up a white sheet that was lying on the floor, still neatly folded after its fall from the cupboard. Rachel cautiously leaned over his shoulder to see what he'd found. Lying beneath the sheet was a shattered lamp which had been knocked from the bench beside the cupboard. "Meow!" Rachel almost jumped out of her skin as something fuzzy brushed up against her leg from behind.  
"Shit!" She spun around to find a fluffy black cat with a white moustache staring up at her with what could only be described as a guilty look upon its face.   
Frank looked at Rachel. Rachel looked at Frank. Frank looked at the cat. The cat looked at Frank. The cat looked at Rachel. Rachel looked at the cat. Rachel and Frank cracked up laughing. "Is it yours?" Frank regained his composure.  
"Nah, the neighbours'. She finds her way in here every now and then, hides in the hot air cupboard, and then I lock her in 'cause I don't know she's there!" Rachel explained, picking the cat up and wandering back into the hallway, preparing to throw her out.   
"Poor cat!" Frank chuckled as he watched Rachel cold-heartedly throw the cat out into the cold winter rain.  
"She got herself into this mess, it's her own fault." Rachel stated, deadlocking the door and heading back upstairs.  
"True. What's for dinner?" Frank asked, following her back up.  
"You'll see." Rachel stated, going back to fetch her beer.  
"Hmm, I can't wait..." Frank took a large gulp of his previously opened beer and settled in front of the TV again, where Rachel joined him.  
  
*****  
  
"So, you having a shower or what?" Rachel asked Frank as he finished off his last slice of pizza.  
"I dunno... Should I?" Frank asked cautiously.  
"Yes. You stink. I won't look, I promise." Rachel said tactfully, waving a magazine at him, indicating that she'd read it while he was showering.  
"Yeah, why not. You having one? I won't look either." Frank asked, thinking that this was a very strange conversation, one he'd never even dreamed he'd be having with his work partner.  
"I dunno... do I stink?" Rachel asked seriously.  
"No, you never stink."  
"Good answer!" Rachel praised Frank's new-found skill, "Okay, let me rephrase that... do you think I need a shower? Oh crap... makeup. Yes, I need a shower. You got any reading material? Apart from playboy of course."  
"Why would I need a playboy when I have my own free..."  
"Don't say it Frank, I know what you're gonna say." Rachel threw a crust at Frank.  
"Do you now? Hmm." Frank chuckled, winking at her.  
"I don't know if I trust you now!" Rachel laughed, trying to give him the evils without smiling.  
"Hmph!" Frank pretended to be insulted.  
"Right. I'll throw the dishwasher on, and then we'll have our showers, note the plural Francis." Rachel quickly wiped the cheeky grin off Frank's face which meant another wisecrack was coming, and headed to the kitchen.  
"Damn." Frank clicked his fingers and pretended to be dismayed, then collected the beer cans from the lounge.  
"Recycling bin is in there." Rachel pointed a foot at the pantry while rinsing some dishes in the stainless steel sink.  
"You *recycle* your *beer* cans?" Frank asked in disbelief.  
"I do my bit to save the environment, yes. You should consider it too Frank, it's a very satisfying feeling."  
"Bottom or top?"  
"Eh? Oh, bottom."   
"Done?"  
"Yep. TV while that's going?"  
"Yeah, why not."  
  
*****  
  
"No, don't dump them on the floor! Put them in the basket!" Rachel complained as Frank dumped his shirt on the floor.  
"You're not meant to be looking!" Frank pointed out.  
"I'm not. I can hear a shirt dropping a mile away." Rachel retorted from her seat on the lid of the dunny, busily reading a magazine.  
"Hmph." Frank muttered, throwing the rest of his clothes into the basket and climbing into the hot shower, noting gratefully that the door was frosted perspex.  
"Where's the soap Rach?"   
"You use soap? I'm impressed! Um, oh, new bottle. Hang on, I'll just get it. And no, I won't look." Rachel scooted across to the sink and rummaged around underneath it until she found the bottle, then, holding a hand over her eyes she passed it to him.  
"Ta." Frank thanked her, then squirted some on his hand.  
"No prob." Rachel replied, picking up her magazine again.  
Frank took a whiff of the soap. "ROSE?! I don't want to smell like a bloody flower!" Frank was afraid his manliness would be shattered.  
"Cover it up with your cologne tomorrow then!" Rachel suggested.  
"Yeah, I guess I'll have to! Oh, shit. The one thing I left at my house." Frank suddenly remembered that was the one thing he hadn't packed.  
"It's ten o'clock, we are *not* going back to your place at this time of the night, especially while there are a group of hired hitmen which could come to get us at any moment!" Rachel pointed out fiercely.  
"True. Have you got your gun with you?"  
"Yeah, why?"  
"Just wondering." Frank replied.  
"Are you finished yet? You're using up all the hot water." Rachel yawned widely and picked a dead leaf off a maidenhair fern sitting on the windowsill.  
"Yeah, yeah. Damn, I forgot a towel. Can ya pass me one Goldie?" Frank stuck a dripping wet hand out of the shower door.  
"Yeah, here ya go." Rachel pulled a navy blue towel off the white heated towel rail and held it out for him to take.  
"Ta."  
"This is stupid."  
"Eh?" Frank was constantly surprised by Rachel's unprompted opinion expressions.  
"This! Having to be in the same room as one another. Within eyesight."  
"Yeah, but they do have reason for this. Come on Goldie, it's just for tonight." Frank tried to put a brighter light upon their situation.  
"Is it though? What about when we're in safe homes eh? We'll have video cameras watching over us the whole time, we'll have minders, we'll have to dress differently, have different names, different hairstyles, different birth dates..." Rachel trailed off as Frank emerged from the steamy depths of the shower.  
"True. What do you reckon your name will be?" Frank asked with a twinkle in his bluey grey eyes.  
"I dunno... Sarah?" Rachel suggested with a grin.  
"Nah... Courtney."  
"Courtney? Why Courtney?"  
"I dunno, you just seem like a Courtney to me."  
"Nah. Any other suggestions?"  
"Sascha."  
"Hmm... possibly."  
"Christy. That seems to be popular?"  
"What, like Jack Christey? Nah, dead give away."  
"Oh, almost forgot about him... Petra?"  
"Petra? *Me?*"  
"Maybe not. Uh, Nicki?"  
"Nah."  
"Olivia?"  
"Pff... hey, I like that, that's better."  
"Yeah?"  
"Yeah."  
"Yeah?"  
"Yeah!"  
"Olivia it is then."   
"Right. Now you."  
"What about me?"  
"Your new name!"  
"Oh! Hmm, I dunno... What do you reckon?"  
"Max."  
"Eh?"  
"Okay, maybe not. Uh, Paul."  
"Nah. I knew a Paul once..."  
"Yeah?"  
"Yeah. He stole my girlfriend in Year 12."  
"Awah. Beat him up?"  
"Broke his nose."  
"Really?"  
"No, but it sounded good. I just went out with his sister."  
"Yeah?"  
"But that's not all... I got a very embarrassing story about him out of her. Turns out he got drunk behind the bike sheds at school the year before and came to class drunk. He started chatting up the teacher after class, then threw up all over her."  
"And what did you do with that information, or shouldn't I ask?"  
"I wrote out fliers and stuck them up all over the school the next day. He was so embarrassed he left the school."  
"You're a jerk Holloway." Rachel chuckled.  
"Your turn."   
"Eh?"  
"Shower."  
"Oh yeah." Rachel pulled herself off the toilet.  
"Any good?"  
"What?"  
"The magazine."  
"Oh, yeah, it's okay. The book down beside you is good. Just don't loose my place." Rachel hopped into the shower.  
"Eh?! You're suggesting that I, Francis James Holloway, should read a Mills and Boons novel?!" Frank sniggered, pulling his white "I R Baboon" t-shirt and boxers on in preparation for bed.  
"It's not Mills and Boons you Wally. It's a John Grisham. There *is* a pretty big difference..." Rachel squirted some shampoo into her hand.  
"Oh. Never heard of him."  
"You inedumicated little person you."   
"True."  
"Zackary?"  
"Eh?"  
"Your name."  
"Nah."  
"Oliver?"  
"Pff!"  
"Ben?"  
"Mmm..."  
"Johnny?"  
"Nah."  
"Jethrow?"  
"Eh?!"  
"Roger?"  
"Rodge... nah."  
"Junior?"  
"Haha."  
"Fussy!"  
"I'm allowed to be, it's my name!"  
"True. Lester?"  
"Nah."  
"Shane?"  
"Shane... Shane... yeah, why not?"  
"Okay then, it's settled, Shane."  
"I guess so."  
"Crap! *Shane*, can you look under the vanity and hand me the bottle of conditioner please?" Rachel threw the empty bottle over the top of the shower enclosure, where it landed perfectly in the bin beside the vanity unit.  
"Good shot! Here ya go." Frank handed her the bottle and went back to reading the book in silence.  
"Say, this is pretty good... let me guess, Anderson killed Grant, Hoffman found out, Anderson tries to kill Hoffman, Hoffman kills Anderson, and they all live happily ever after?" Frank asked after a few minutes of silence.  
"Huh?! How much have you read?" Rachel asked in disbelief.  
"About five pages. That's the trouble with being a D. You solve the stories before you've even started." Frank muttered.  
"Yeah, it's annoying eh? Well you were totally correct, apart from one thing."  
"What?"  
"They don't live happily ever after because Anderson's wife comes in brandishing a semi-automatic."  
"Oh. Figures." Frank muttered.  
"Hmm." Rachel emerged and pulled her royal purple satin shorty pyjamas on.  
"So are all the stories like this?"  
"Yeah, pretty much. Some happy businessman gets bumped off, the wife throws a wobbly, finds the murderer, tries to bump him off, thinks she does but she doesn't, murderer comes after her, new boyfriend comes to the rescue etc etc etc. Nah, not all of them, just most of them. Want a Milo?" Rachel wrapped a towel around her head in a turban and walked out the door.  
"Yeah, why not." Frank agreed with a yawn.  
"Anything good on TV tonight?"  
"Nah, just 'When Good Times Go Bad' and that sort of shit."   
"Ick."  
"Exactly."  
"Hot?"  
"Yep."  
Rachel shoved the two mugs in the microwave and looked back at Frank. "You know, while you've been here I haven't really worried about the boogie men coming to get us." Rachel said thoughtfully.  
"Yeah, neither have I."  
"Even the bathroom fiasco wasn't too bad."  
"True."  
"Here ya go." Rachel handed him a steaming cup of Milo.  
"Ta. So, you want me to sleep on the floor?"  
"Eh? Nah, you'll get too cold down there. As long as you don't fart in the bed, I'll let ya sleep with me, so to speak." Rachel grinned into her Milo.  
"Damn, that ruins all my plans!" Frank shook his head in mock dismay.  
  
*****  
  
"A King? Impressive!" Frank flicked on the light switch in the bedroom.  
"Yeah, I thought so. Don't like small beds." Rachel checked the locks on the window, "The ensuite is through there, not through the right doorway, because that's the wardrobe."   
"Got it." Frank sat on the bed and tested the mattress.  
"Any good?" Rachel watched him.  
"Eh? Yeah, nice and... squishy."  
"Mmm. Yet firm."  
"The mind boggles..."  
"Frank!!!" Rachel told him off.  
"What?" Frank acted innocent.  
"Get into bed you naughty little boy."  
"Yes, Mum."  
"Oh, don't start that!"   
"Okay Mum."  
Rachel sighed and crawled into bed, snatching some of her duvet back. "This is gonna be one of those nights..." she thought.  
"Night Mum." Frank yawned.  
"Night son." Rachel flicked off the light switch and snuggled down in the bed, listening to Frank's breathing change as he fell asleep, then fell asleep herself.  
  
*****  
  
"Rachel! Rachel! Wake up!" Rachel slowly became aware Frank was shaking her awake.  
"What is it?" she whispered.  
"Someone's out there..." Frank hissed.  
"Shit! Got your gun?" Rachel was fully awake now.  
"Right here. You?"  
"Got it now." Rachel slid the drawer open silently and pulled the gun out quickly.  
Frank crept out of bed, then opened the door slightly. He looked down the hall in the dim light, not seeing any movement. He slid down the hall wall, followed closely by Rachel. "Mph!" Rachel's squawk was muffled by a hand that had just grabbed her.  
Frank whipped around to find a man in a balaclava holding a gun to her head. Rachel winked at Frank and moved her hand so the gun glinted in the moonlight, then pulled the trigger. "BANG!" Rachel shot the guy in the foot.  
"AAH!" He bellowed, dropping the knife.  
"Good work Rach!" Frank slapped his beside handcuffs on the man and pulled out his cellphone.  
"Helen? It's Frank. Sorry to wake you up this early, but we've got a guy in custody here at Rachel's place... Just down the street? Yeah, I hear them. How convenient... Thanks Helen. Yeah, we're okay, he's got a bullet in his foot thanks to Rachel though. See ya soon. Bye." Frank hung up the cellphone and checked out the rest of the house with Rachel by his side, pulling the suspect with them, ignoring his cries of pain.  
"Shut up or I'll do it to your other foot too!" Rachel snapped, pushing him onto the couch when they reached the lounge, grabbing an old towel to use as a sponge for the blood.  
Frank pulled the balaclava off his head. "Well, well, well. You're a bit young for this sort of thing, aren't ya?" Frank revealed a young man of about 18.  
"So, where's Anderson?" Rachel asked, heading downstairs to open the door for the cops who'd just pulled up in force.  
"I don't know nothing."  
"No, you don't know *anything*." Rachel corrected him, coming back up the stairs with a few uniform officers in tow.  
"So what were you doing here then?" Frank asked.  
The guy stayed quiet as he was lead away, glaring at anyone who came within two feet. "Great. What's the time?" Rachel asked, watching out the door as an ambulance screamed down the street.  
"2am."  
"I don't think we'll get much more sleep."   
"Neither do I..." Frank agreed.  
  
*****  
  
Frank woke to find Rachel's arm draped across his chest. He slowly moved it and got up to find it was dawn. The sky above the city glowed purple and orange in the golden sunshine. It was still quiet on the streets; most people were still in bed. Frank turned and looked back at Rachel who was still fast asleep, and decided to go and make some breakfast, even though they were meant to be together at all times. He decided that they'd be fine as long as they were within earshot of each other, besides, Helen had only said it was for the *night*. Wandering into the cleaner than clean kitchen, he stretched and glanced at his watch. 6.10am. What time had Helen said they'd be taken to the 'safe house'? He couldn't remember, though he thought it would probably be around 10am. He could just see the amount of bother they'd go to... decoy vehicles, decoy people, armed snipers in the bushes... It was going to be a circus. "You're up early! And I thought we were meant to be in the same room at all times..." Rachel padded into the kitchen barefoot and turned on the coffee machine.  
"Yeah, first time I've been up this early in me life I reckon. Helen only said it was for the *night*, remember?" Frank pointed out.  
"True, she did too! *Never*?"   
"Never what?"  
"Been up this early."  
"Oh, never."  
"Wow."  
"Yep, pretty impressive."  
"Mmm. Coffee?"  
"Would be nice."  
"Toast? Crumpet? Special K? Weetbix?"   
"Uh, you got marmite?"  
"Marmite?"   
"Marmite."  
"What's marmite?"  
"It's kind of like vegemite, only nicer. I can actually digest the stuff."  
"Never heard of it."  
"Wow. I'll have to give you some sometime then."  
"Guess you will."  
"And you thought *I* was inedumicated!"  
"Well you are."  
"True."  
"So your point was...?"  
"Eh?"  
"Your point?"  
"Can't remember."  
"Well that's a bit silly."  
"True."  
"Sugar's over there in the blue ceramic bowl." Rachel handed him a fresh mug of coffee.  
"Ta. Milk?"  
"Where do you think?"  
"The oven?"  
"Very funny Francis."  
"I am quite the comedian, aren't I?"  
"Definitely. Drink your coffee and shut up, you're giving me a headache."  
Frank took a large sip of his coffee and yawned. "Sleep okay?" Rachel asked.  
"Yeah, well, the sleep I actually *got* was good..." Frank trailed off.  
"What, you mean waking up to get that intruder?"  
"No, you snored."  
"I don't snore!"  
"Yes you do!"  
"No, I do *not*!"  
"I have proof!" Frank put the mug down on the bench and walked back to the bedroom to grab his evidence.  
Rachel sipped on her coffee and waited, wondering what on earth he could have as evidence... unless... Frank wandered in with her cassette recorder. "Where'd you get that?" Rachel asked suspiciously.  
"It was lying on the dresser." Frank replied, fiddling with the buttons.  
"Oh great." Rachel muttered as Frank proudly pushed the play button.  
The unmistakable sound of very loud snoring came from the tape. "That's not me!" Rachel protested.  
"Yes it is."  
"No it's not. I'll bet that's your snoring!"  
"Listen!" Frank hissed.  
"And this is Senior Detective Constable Rachel Goldstein snoring her head off." Frank's voice came through in the background.  
"Eh?! No, that is *not* me!"   
"It is so."  
"Hmm, it does sound *kind* of like me..."  
"Yeah, coz it is you!"  
"Oh fine. Turn it off Frank!" Rachel had lost that battle.  
Frank grinned, feeling very pleased with himself. "When are they taking us to the safe house?" Rachel asked, trying to change the subject.  
"I dunno. Was hoping you'd know actually."  
"Oh."  
"Are we meant to go to work today?"  
"Nope."  
"Really?"  
"Yep."  
"No work?"  
"Nope."  
"For as long as Anderson's free?"  
"Yep."  
"Hey, maybe this isn't gonna be too bad."  
"Hey, working with me isn't *that* bad is it?"  
"Nah."  
"Eat your Weetbix and shut up."  
  
*****  
  
"Ms Goldstein? I'm here to take you on the business trip." A young man stood at the door.  
"Really?" Rachel asked for proof in the international code.  
"Yep." The man flashed his badge from his pocket and handed her a brochure.  
"And what about Mr Holloway?"  
"He's taking a later flight."  
"Oh. I'll just get my stuff."  
"Right."  
"Come in."  
"Thanks."  
Rachel trotted up the stairs and found Frank with her suitcase. "Thanks." Rachel sighed and smiled at him sadly.  
"I guess I'll see ya later." Rachel took the suitcase.  
"Yeah. See ya later partner." Frank hugged her, and was kind of surprised to feel her hugging him tightly back.   
"Thanks Frank."  
"For what?"  
"I dunno. Everything. I'll call you later, when I can."   
"Yeah, me to. Have fun. And don't give the babysitters too much of a hard time." Frank smiled at her fondly as he watched her walk down the stairs to the front door.  
"Nah, I won't. Bye Frank."  
"Bye."  
And with that she was gone.  
  
*****  
  
"This is it?" Rachel wandered into the lounge of the little bungalow situated somewhere in Melbourne.  
"Yes, this is it." Marsha, Rachel's minder, pushed her shoulder-length blonde hair out of the way and watched Rachel look around.  
"Why Melbourne?"  
"Because you'd be recognised elsewhere."  
"Oh. Do you know where my partner is going?"  
"No, sorry."  
"That's okay. You're not allowed to tell me, even if you know, right?"  
"Yeah."  
"Mmm. So where's my bedroom?"  
"That one through there. You'll have a flatmate who's also on the programme. You are aware that you will have to look totally different?"  
"What does that involve?"  
"You have a new wardrobe, per courtesy of the force, and you have a hair appointment at 1pm. You'll have a car you can drive, it's in the garage. It's bugged, there's a tracking device in it, and there are cameras for your safety."  
"Great."  
"Now, you have to have a new name."  
"Can I choose the first name? I couldn't bare to be stuck with a first name like Virginia or Angelica." Rachel smirked.  
"Yeah, sure."  
"Olivia."  
"Okay. Your last name will be... Let's see. Martinson. Olivia Martinson."  
"Right. Is there a phone I can use?"  
"That one right there. It's bugged as well."  
"Everything's bugged."  
"Almost. You're bedroom's clear, and so is the bathroom and toilet. The rest of the place is monitored 24 hours a day."  
"Great. Like a prison."  
"Except you get to go out wherever you want, bearing in mind that the curfew is 10pm, and there is no catching rides home with anyone. You will be wearing a tracking device at all times, and if you want a taxi, pick up your phone and dial this number. Same goes if you're in any kind of trouble, you suspect someone's following you, you see anyone suspicious etc."  
"Like prison." Rachel repeated.  
"I've got to go, is there anything you want?"  
"To get out of here?"  
"Sorry, no can do." The officer walked to the door.  
"They have to be kept locked at all times, right?" Rachel asked, pointing to the door.  
"Right." The officer walked out into the night air, the door slamming shut behind her, leaving Rachel feeling like an animal in a cage.  
  
*****  
  
"This the place?" Frank climbed out of the car and looked at his new home.  
It was a one storied brick box with little to no garden and a concrete fence out the front. "This is it. Nothing much, but hopefully you like the inside better." Bob explained.  
Bob was Frank's minder. He was tall, muscular and stocky. His brown eyes glinted in the sunshine, and his mass of dark hair shimmered in the sun. "Rachel would liked his straightforward, polite manner." Frank thought.   
"Coming?"  
"Yeah. Hey, this isn't too bad." Frank was greeted by a trendy tidy living room with a comfortable-looking couch in one corner, a big screen TV opposite.   
"And it's got Sport." Bob chuckled as he saw Frank's face.  
"Woohoo!" Frank grinned widely.  
"That's your room there. Your room, the bathroom, and the loo are clear of bugs and cameras. The rest of the place is monitored. There are cameras right around the outside too. The phone is tapped. If you need us pick up that phone and talk into it without dialling. You can come and go as you please, keeping in mind that the curfew is 10pm, and you can't leave before 6am. You're car is in the carport, it's bugged, it's got a tracking device, and a camera fitted. Whenever you leave you have to wear a tracking device and take this cellphone with you. If you want a taxi, call this number, same goes if you need us. It'll get you the control centre. We pay for everything, and you get your salary on top of that." Bob quickly rattled off the details.  
"All doors locked all the time?"  
"Yep."  
"Makes sense." Frank commented.  
"Your new name..."  
"Can I choose the first name?"  
"Sure."  
"Shane."  
"Shane, okay. Shane Rogers."  
"Great."  
"I'll leave you to settle in. I'll be popping in once every two days."  
"Yeah, thanks mate." Frank watched Bob leave, then began unpacking.  
  
*****  
  
"Hi Olivia!" Rachel opened the door to see someone who looked vaguely familiar.  
It was a middle-aged woman with light brown hair that looked like a wig. She was wearing black bootlegs and a purple sweater with a black jacket over the top. Rachel suddenly clicked.  
"Hel...?! Come in!" Rachel eagerly ushered her in and slammed the door excitedly.  
"Helen! I almost didn't recognise you! What're you doing here?" Rachel gave her a bear hug.  
"I'm the good news messenger today. Anderson and all his little followers have been caught! You can come back home!" Helen grinned.  
"Eh? Really?! Thank god! I hated my designated job..."  
"What was it?"  
"A florist!"  
Helen cracked up. Rachel? A florist? "Frank's just down the block. You ready to go?" Helen asked.  
"Uh, let me throw some stuff in my bag, then I'll be ready." Rachel jogged to her room.  
The phone rang. Helen answered it. "Hello? Just a sec. Rach, it's for you." Helen handed her the cordless phone.  
"Hello?"  
"Rachel, it's your babysitter here. Just wanted to say goodbye on behalf of the team." Martha was on the other end of the line.  
"Thanks. I want to thank you lot too, for putting up with me for the past week."  
"Anytime. Good luck Rachel."  
"Thanks, you too!"  
"Bye."  
"Bye." Rachel hung up and looked at Helen.  
"You taking me home?"  
"Yep, why else would I fly all the way down here from Sydney?"  
"Good question."  
  
*****  
  
"Gidday Shane..." Frank greeted his barely recognisable partner.  
"Gidday Olivia..." Rachel greeted *her* barely recognisable partner.  
Frank looked at Rachel. Her hair had been dyed light brown, and she'd obviously had some hair extensions put on since her hair was now shoulder length. She was wearing grey button-up hipster bootlegs and a light purple top under a white cardigan. Her shoes were high-heeled grey sandals that matched the colour of her bootlegs. Frank, on the other hand, was wearing a pair of old jeans, a Harley Davidson t-shirt, and a leather jacket over the top. Apart from the clothes he looked much the same.  
"You ready to get out of here Frank?" Helen asked, pulling her own wig off.  
"Yep, my suitcase is packed."  
"Right. Say goodbye to your babysitters, because we're out of here." Rachel grinned at Frank who grinned back.  
"Bye you lot! Nice knowing ya!" Frank waved at one of the cameras, then picked up the phone as it rang.  
"Good luck Frank." Bob was on the other end.  
"You too mate!"   
"Say hi to your girlfriend for me?"  
"Yeah, will do." Frank chuckled.  
"Bye."  
"See ya." Frank hung up the phone.  
"BYE DICKHEAD!!!" Frank yelled down the hallway towards the toilet.  
"BYE WANKER!!!" 'Dickhead' yelled back from the porcelain throne.  
"Long story." Frank said when he noticed both Rachel and Helen staring at him questioningly.  
"Let's go!" Helen walked over to the door and led the way out to the waiting taxi.  
  
*****  
  
"Welcome back Frank, welcome back Rachel! We missed you guys!" Tayler greeted the pair when the walked in the next morning.  
"Morning Tayler! Any messages?" Frank asked as he signed in.  
"Uh, none actually... None for you either Rachel..." Tayler rummaged around to see if she'd misplaced any.  
"Thanks Tayler. Morning Helen!" Rachel signed in as Helen made an appearance.   
"Morning Rachel, Morning Frank! Frank, you're on time for once!" Helen chuckled.  
"She's right... Frank, you feeling okay?" Rachel tested his forehead with her hand, "Mmm, a bit hot..."  
"Very funny. No, I woke up at dawn and couldn't get back to sleep." Frank explained.  
"Must be sick!" Rachel commented as she headed upstairs to reclaim their office from Michael Reilly, who, no doubt, was having a field day with it all to himself.  
She wandered down the hall in the direction of the office walking briskly and purposefully, then swept through the door to the Ds office to find it immaculately clean. Reilly was sitting at his desk doing some paperwork. "Morning Rachel! Where's Frank?" Mick looked up to greet his big-sister-like senior partner.  
"Coming, slowly. Have fun while we weren't here?" Rachel asked suspiciously, looking in all of her drawers to see if there were any pranks in them... nothing.  
"Yeah, it was okay. Got a Detective in from Central. Detective Jerry Green. Weird guy, but nice enough." Mick filled her in, grinning as he watched her search the place for harmful objects.  
"Hmm. Reilly, why is everything so tidy?" Rachel had to know, her curiosity was driving her nuts.  
"I decided to do some cleaning..."  
"You tackled Frank's desk, Reilly. What happened?" Rachel said flatly.  
"What about my desk? What the hell? I'm being blinded!" Frank walked in the door just as the sun came out and shone on his over-polished desk, straight into his eyes.  
"Where's my junk?" Frank whined after he'd shut the blinds so he could see.  
"Uh..."  
"Reilly?" Frank and Rachel chorused.  
"Ask her!" Reilly pointed at Helen who was quickly trying to duck out of the doorway and out of sight.  
"Helen?!" Rachel snapped, opening the door to reveal her trying to sneak into the photocopying room.  
"Alright, alright." Helen sighed and walked back into the office.  
"Well?" Rachel prompted her.  
"Uh..."  
"Yes?" Frank joined in.  
"We had to get the cleaners in because Detective Green threw a party. And a lot of people, who shall remain nameless might I add, got very drunk. Frank, most of the junk on your desk was redone and filed, where it should be, and Rachel, seeing as your desk was clear, it came away relatively well. Your pens, however, especially the fountain pens, will be replaced..."  
"Is that why there's fresh paint on the walls?" Rachel asked.  
"Yes." Helen replied, "Can I go now?"   
"Yeah." Rachel sighed, sitting down at her desk.  
Frank cautiously sat down behind his immaculate desk as though it were dangerous. "Well, I guess everything's back to normal, eh?" Rachel sighed.  
"Guess so." Frank agreed.  
"Finally..." muttered Mick.  
"What was that Reilly?"  
"Nothing, Rachel, just glad to have you both back."   
Rachel and Frank both made a mental note to find out why Reilly was acting so strangely. Reilly made a mental note to get his suit back from the dry cleaners for the surprise party at Cutters Bar that evening...  
  
*****  
*****  
  
So? What did you think? E-mail all feedback and fan mail (teeheehee, yeah right) to me at sydneygirl2b@hotmail.com okay?   



End file.
